Vandread: The Alternate Stage
by shadowD
Summary: When an unempowered Author traverses the Fourth Wall into the anime multiverse, an amateur fanfiction writer is selected as the Avatar to oppose him.
1. Prologue

This is the rewritten version of the first draft, which I had realized was too rushed and could be vastly improved upon. I hope you find this draft better than the last, and if there's anything you think I could've done better with this story, please let me know.

While basically Vandread, this story does contain numerous references to various other anime series, all of which are intended and part of the plot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_There's something only you can do  
So that this blue planet doesn't lose its light_

There's no map of how to live, that's why we're free  
You can go anywhere

Run faster than the wind!  
Aim farther than the skies!  
You can meet a new you  
Unknown courage sleeps in your heart, and when you realize  
The downpour in your heart  
Will surely stop... show me your brave heart

- "Brave Heart," Digimon 01

**Vandread: The Alternate Stage  
Part of the "Biggest Dreamer" storyline  
Prologue**

With a final scream, the final surreal layer of the quantum universe faded away, and in one dizzying flash the multiple, partitioned worlds merged back together, fusing itself one once more.

The warp jump was complete.

The boy found himself sitting on a cold, hard -- and most important of all, solid -- surface, indicating the completion of his transit past the Fourth Wall, and into yet another dimension. His head throbbed painfully, blood pounding at his temples. The residue effects of the warp jump aside, it was a few moments before he could gather himself from the horrible images that kept flashing past his mind involuntarily.

Syun Ukiya. Ruriko Ikusawa. Kaoru Konoe. Reiji Kageyama.

Yukino Houjou.

And most importantly, a cybernetic soldier known only as Tekkaman Razor. He had battled against and nearly lost his life to the Tekkaman warrior no more than five minutes ago, and through his adversary he had learned that he was not the only Avatar in the anime worlds. He had learned the meaning of defeat and destruction -- the Tekkaman had been terrifyingly powerful, and for the slightest fraction of a second he had stared into the eyes of Death, confronted with his own mortality for the first time in his life. He had learned the true nature of the enemy, as well as the significance of the Nine Essences, and the insignificance of it all.

_But I've won, he uttered,_ his voice a listless whisper. _AEGIS was not destroyed. The GateKeepers live, and the Fourth Wall remains intact._

Tekkaman Razor's mocking laughter echoed in his ears. _You will become one of us,_ the Avatar had rasped in his final moments before his death. _You already have._

With a deep breath the boy calmed himself. Regardless of what logical thought told him, the wrenching feeling in his gut didn't make him feel like he'd won at all. Heck, he wasn't sure if there was even a winner at all. The meaning of the Tekkaman's words needed pondering over, but he'd best focus on here and now for the time being.

He wasn't surprised to find that his clothes had changed once more. His PET and backpack remained, as they always did, but his garb had shifted from the Tategami high school uniform to something that could be best described as a dull orange hybrid between a coat and a shirt, two buttons fastening it shut across his body on his right ribcage with sleeves that ran to his shoulders. A black, single-piece bodysuit was worn underneath, and a pair of faded green baggy pants concealed his lower body, tapering off at the ankles where a leather boots covered his feet. A steel dogtag that hung from his neck via a piece of coarse rope which, along with a piece of peach-colored cloth, tied around his waist in a knot that served as a belt, completed his ensemble. Somewhat too dull and unconventional for his tastes, but it was clean and comfortable, and it was all he had right now.

It would have to do.

He didn't like what he saw. Rust-colored structures of steel rose all around him in dizzying towers like half-completed skyscrapers, exposed walkways and girders weaving themselves into a complex maze. It took him several moments for him to realize that this steel abomination was not just a mere building -- it stretched out almost as far as he could see from his vantage point, forming vast complexes of paths and smaller sub-structures, with giant monitors suspended almost everywhere, displaying either programmes, advertisements or government propaganda in endless loops. All in all, the landscape before him was apparently man-made, yet struck him as uncannily alien.

The realization that the vast network that laid out before him was, in fact, a metropolitan city came to him with a frown. With a flick of his wrist his PET flipped open, revealing a small keyboard and rectangular LCD screen. It had been a keepsake from Celia when he had first breached the Fourth Wall into the anime multiverse, a small, portable multi-purpose computer, a digital assistant of sorts that he had quickly found to be invaluable. In addition to acting as the initializer for his warp jumps, his PET -- or PErsonal Terminal -- was crucial for identifying the manner of the paradigm shifts he had experienced, and was no less than James Bondian in its various other functions. For a while he had puzzled over how the small machine Velcro-ed to his left forearm was capable of the functions and processing power that it was, but as time passed, he had simply chosen to accept it as an odd law of the anime worlds, one that he could neither understand nor deny.

"Hayashi Ichiro," he read out aloud, repeating it several times under his breath to accustomize himself to it. It would serve as his identity for as long as he remained in this universe. The next few lines of displayed data told him enough for him to deduce the nature of the strangely alien world he found himself in now. He stifled back a yawn as a wave of fatigue washed over him. His wounds had recovered as he warp jumped, but not his vitality, and the fight against Tekkaman Razor had taken a lot of that out of him.

With an effort, he conquered his weariness, locking it away into a corner of his mind. Lethargy was a mere illusion, and one's true strength lay not in the body, but in the mind. Besides, he would have plenty of time to rest later.

It was time to look for Hibiki Tokai.

  
~*~

_"Look at this, everyone!!"_

"Every day we put our hearts and souls into polishing parts like this one, parts that will be carted off to be assembled into a complete Vanguard. Being third-class citizens ourselves, we can never hope to see the complete fruit of our work. But do you guys know that somebody in this room came to me that other day and claimed that he could bring back a complete Vanguard, with this very part on it, for everyone to see?!"

Hibiki Tokai, mechanic and third-class citizen of Taraak, sat alone in his apartment. The blinds were drawn, allowing only a few shafts of light from outside to spear into the room that provided him with his sole illumination. Tools, equipment and various other items were strewn haphazardly across the floor, which Hibiki sat at the very middle of, his hands clenched into fists as he attended to himself and his thoughts in the darkness.

He was really, REALLY beginning to wish that he hadn't said what he had said.

_"And the guy who's going to pull this off is... the one and only!! Hibiki Tokai!"_

"That's what you said, right Hibiki?! You're going to steal one of the Vanguards from the Ikazuchi, and show the rest of us third-class citizens the ultimate fighting machine of the Taraak Empire that we've never had the chance to see!!"

"Doshtano, Hibiki? Why the silence now? Don't you have anything to say today because everything you told me before were just a big pack of lies?"

"After all, we all know that you say stupid things from time to time, and there's no chance..."

That was when his patience had finally snapped, and his male pride gained the upper hand in the struggle against his logical thinking. True, all he had said before were no more than a pack of lies, a boast to make himself appear to be more than he was. Wistful dreaming had made him say it the first time, but it was utter foolishness that had driven him to repeat it again. In other words, he had been a idiot, and an unforgivably big one too, at that.

_"I wasn't lying about that, damn it!! And if you really want to see one that badly, you're going to get one!"_

"Everyone!! Did you hear what he just said?!?"

The resounding cheers had been deafening. For a while he had actually believed that he had said the right thing... after all, nobody had ever cheered him like this before in his life. But the euphoria had quickly faded after he left the dining hall, leaving him to face the near-unthinkable consequences his pride and words had left him with. For a third-class citizen to even show his face anywhere near the upper castes of the Taraak society usually meant punishment at the hands of the notoriously sadistic jailers, a fact that he could personally attest to. Daring to sneak aboard a battleship -- the most important and prized battleship of the Taraak empire at that -- and steal from it a Vanguard unit was almost guaranteed to warrant nothing less than death at a public execution, in the most humiliating fashion possible, should he be caught.

"I'm really stupid, aren't I? Never thinking before I speak... why'd I have to get so carried away? Stupid..."

But... what if he wasn't caught?

Was his pride worth risking his life for?

_What life?_ he barked inwardly at himself. The 'life' he forced himself through, day after day, slaving his measly self out for a day's worth of rations to keep himself alive just enough to repeat the process the next day, was hardly a life. Pride was all he had, to live through every day with his head held high. They all looked down on him, but he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of seeing him suffer just because of it. He was sick of it all, and before him lay the chance to make something out of himself, no matter how outrageous or absurd it sounded.

But still...

It wasn't like as if he still had a choice anyway. Hibiki scratched at his head furiously in exasperation. "Damn it all," he swore. "I don't care how dumb I am... I'm still a man!! And Hibiki, the man, never breaks his word!"

"... I hope," he muttered dejectedly to himself at the end of his sentence.

  
~*~

"Women are monsters! And men were once their playthings. They ate our forefather's innards, sucking them dry of all life."

DESTRUCTION.

"Over the centuries they have plundered our cities."

OPPRESSION.

"They have cruelly oppressed our people with forced labor. And that unspeakable horror is about to strike at our Empire once again. This is the shape of our most bloodthirsty enemy, the symbol of our sacrifice. Even those fortunate enough to live are left horribly scarred after their encounters with women. But the time has come to erase the memories of those unbearable years of humiliation and degradation."

"The time has come... for our Empire to regain its prestige!"

"My comrades! My brothers! We now go into battle to prove the manhood of the glorious Taraak Empire! Our great forefather, Grand Pa, guided us here! But we will now leave this holy land that we have cultivated with our own hands, in order to regain the pride of men! For today, we have a new power in our possession which will change our very history! In other words, we have now reached the point where we shall clench our collective fist of justice and crush our horrible nemesis, WOMEN!!"

And thus went the speech of the Prime Minister of the Taraak Empire. The gathered audience, standing on a large steel platform before the open-air podium, gave their voices to a collective cheer in response, an audience that consisted only of men, and every one of them dressed in the light green uniform of military cadet graduates. There were no women among the crowd, or anywhere else on the planet, for that matter. The contempt, disdain and hatred both sides of the gender had for each other aside, there was this matter of not setting foot on the planets dominated by the opposite sex. Not unless one had either a death wish, or a fleet of space warships to back one up.

In short, with the twin planets of Taraak and Mejerr locked in war for the past three generations, saying that men and women didn't get along together very well was probably an understatement. Isolated from each other for almost ten decades, the Taraak version of the propaganda sprung from and was driven by factors unknown, but held to the general belief that women were cruel, reptilian humanoids, endowed with superhuman strength, speed and reflexes and a sadistic taste for brutality... as well as well-roasted men's livers.

And today, the Taraak Imperial Army had plans to put an end to the status quo, utilizing the simple, tried-and-true formula of bombing the women off the face of Mejerr. At least, that was the general idea.

Hibiki Tokai, meanwhile, had other ideas.

"We will destroy the vile women of Mejerr, and the strength of men will triumph! The power that each of you hold will help us rebuild the future of our great Empire! The ship that led us to this fatherland, the Ikazuchi, has been revived! And our young men have boarded the ship as its officers! _You_ are the future of Taraak!"

The Ikazuchi was, simply put, a space carrier ship. The space carrier ship, in fact. It was the very first ship that had landed on Taraak three generations ago, carrying aboard it the very first ancestors that had built the male society to what it was today. And whilst the said society wasn't exactly a crowning accomplishment by any standard, it was still a remarkably impressive feat, given Taraak's unforgiving natural climates and the time frame within which it had been achieved -- from absolutely zero to a fairly advanced civilization that had colonized the barren wastelands of the planet within a century.

The said space carrier ship was also currently undergoing its final launch preparations at that moment. It was a fitting testament to the ship's significance to Taraak heritage -- restored to its former glory, rebuilt to a virtual flying fortress and selected as the command ship of the military expeditionary force, scheduled for launch a mere two hours later, with directives to pacify female activity within the space sector by any and all means necessary.

It was also aboard the Ikazuchi that the Vanguards were now docked, the latest fighting machines developed by the Taraak Imperial Army ready to do battle against the women. The very Vanguards that Hibiki was trying to steal in order to impress his buddies back at the parts-manufacturing plant.

And it was thusly did Hibiki find himself sneaking aboard and running through the passageways of the Ikazuchi, attempting to find his way to the Vanguard docking bays while trying his best not to dwell on the consequences should he be discovered and caught.

"There is no force in the universe that we need fear with our manly strength! To repay the great First Generation that began with Grand Pa, we must now combine the strength of the Second and Third Generations! And when the moment they become one arrives, our long awaited dream will come true!"

Two hours, Hibiki thought to himself as he ran, making his way stealthily from gangplank to platform to stairway to ventilation duct. I can handle this. No problem.

Amplified by loudspeakers positioned at strategic locations through the city, the words of the Prime Minister's speech reverberated even here, deep within the innards of the Ikazuchi. "We all feel it in our hearts, the new breath of life coming from the Ikazuchi! Look upon it! Praise it! This is the flagship of the Taraak Imperial Army!"

Confusing maze-like passageways were navigated, surveillance cameras disabled (Hibiki was, after all, a qualified mechanic), personnel and patrol guards slipped past and security locks overridden. He hadn't just barged in here foolishly; he had done his research too. Prior to the takeoff of the rebuilt capital ship, all the new cadets were to be summoned for the Prime Minister's speech, leaving the coast relatively clear, and a few favors had supplied him with all the necessary authorization codes to get past the doors he needed to. Granted, having the Ikazuchi completely unguarded would be a bit too much to ask for. A few workers and captains would be left to oversee the takeoff preparations, but this was as good a chance as he would get, and he had made excellent use of his opportunity thus far.

A thunderous cheer resounded, muffled by both the distance and the walls of the Ikazuchi, dying down abruptly as the Prime Minister motioned for silence, continuing to address the new cadets. "You are the Third Generation of Taraak, the first graduates of the military academy trained to board the new Ikazuchi! Congratulations! You have the blood of the First Generation flowing through your veins, and you are all legitimate brothers of those original eight men, including our forefather, Grand Pa!"

_Found it,_ Hibiki's pulse quickened as he stared at the doors to the Vanguard docking bays. The third-class citizen worked rapidly, drawing a plastic glove and an aerosol spray can from his backpack. Within seconds he had donned and adjusted the glove, coated it with a quick spray from his aerosol can, then, with a deep breath, pressed his hand against the DNA verification scanner set into the wall next to the doors.

"As most of you already know, the main objective of our mission is to end the piracy that has been plaguing our borders by the women circling our realm recently. But never forget that you are on the battlefield, fighting for the proud honor of your forefather, Grand Pa, and your homeworld, Taraak! Work diligently and never allow yourselves to be caught off-guard!"

The doors slid open in response as the 'palmprint' was verified. Hibiki gazed into the ominous darkness beyond, taking his first step into the poorly-illuminated chamber. "Heh," Hibiki chuckled to himself. "That was a piece of cake!"

"Enough time wasted!" the Prime Minister roared. "Why wait for the designated hour to arrive?! Wouldn't you agree with me, men?"

The words were met by howls of approvement. Technicians in the Ikazuchi's engine rooms bolted up in astonishment as the televised speech of the Prime Minister reached their ears. "What the... He's commencing launch two hours early?!"

"He's crazy!"

"Get back to your stations! C'mon, move it!"

While Hibiki Tokai had never seen a Vanguard unit before, the dimensions, measurements and specifications of the parts that his engineering section had been ordered to produce had gave him a vague idea. The mechanic quickly found his suspicions verified as he cast his first gaze on the Vanguards. Lined in their individual launch bays along both sides of the gargantuan docking hangar, the Vanguard were, as opposed to conventional starfighters, massive humanoid-shaped all-purpose fighting machines, designed for supreme maneuverability, adaptability and devastating close quarters combat rather than overwhelming firepower.

Hibiki felt his jaw go slack as he set his eyes on the revamped, scaled-up mechanical combat space suits, their physical appearance far more magnificent than he had ever imagined them to be. "Unbelievable..." he breathed, the doors sliding shut behind him. "The buddies back home are going to get a kick out of this..."

"If I'd wanted to kill you, Hibiki, you'd be dead by now."

Hibiki whirled around at the unexpected voice behind him. A human figure leaned against the doorway, his voice slightly blurred, as if he had just awakened from a nap. The dark gloom prevented him from making out any more features, but Hibiki could see enough to tell that he wasn't carrying weapons of any sort. "I don't, so be glad," the voice continued. "But some do, and I'd suggest you do a better job of watching out for your own back."

"Who are you?" Hibiki demanded nervously as he backed away, his grip closing around the handle of the monkey wrench he carried in his backpack.

It was then did a cold, furry sensation slink past the nape of his neck, and the shock alone was almost enough to paralyze him. Hibiki yelled, groping wildly for the... thing that was now running circles around his throat. His hands closed around it, but it slipped out of his grasp easily, then perched itself on top of his left shoulder.

_I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die it's gonna kill me..._

"Hisame!" the stranger cried, aghast. "What're _you_ doing here?"

Hibiki opened one eye. It took him several seconds to realize that the cold object standing on his shoulder was some sort of animal. This did nothing to alleviate his fear -- as a general rule, the few animal species indigenous to Taraak possessed either armor-piercing teeth and talons, sacs of virulent venom, or both. The stranger stepped forward, his stunned gaze fixed on the creature, and Hibiki tried his best to not make any abrupt movements.

"What..." the stranger started, spluttering in disbelief. "Hisame... why... how..."

The snow-white ermine cast its beady stare back on the stranger, giving off a slight chittering cry in return. The stranger facepalmed himself.

Hibiki sweatdropped.

  
~*~

"Ikazuchi!" Crowds of Taraak citizens gathered on the streets, screaming a collective chant in unison with their fists upraised. "Ikazuchi! Ikazuchi!"

The Prime Minister surveyed the scene from his vantage point above the city. The crowd grew by the moment as more men poured into the streets from their homes, joining in with their fellow comrades, and an insane smile twisted the edges of the Prime Minister's lips. "Your voices have been heard!" the man roared jubilantly. "Now allow me to answer your demands with this!!"

"LAUNCH THE IKAZUCHI!"

Engines and mechanisms began to roar into life as the massive flagship began to prep itself for takeoff. Outside the Ikazuchi, ground technicians cleared the blastoff site immediately as every monitor in the city quickly switched to a display of ship as the pride of Taraak readied itself to deploy, and citizens of the city gave voice to a rousing cheer. Then the Ikazuchi finally blasted off, its primary thrusters overcoming the gravitational pull of the planet, and slowly, but surely, the flagship gained altitude into the upper levels of the Taraak atmosphere.

  
~*~

"Wait a minute!" Hibiki protested. "What's going on-- auuUUGGHH!!"

The entire hangar tilted itself over at an angle, and both humans lost their footing instantly on the polished steel deck as loosely secured objects came tumbling after them. Thrown completely off his orientation, Hibiki reached out, scrabbling desperately for any handholds and finding none, then crashed against the left leg of a Vanguard an instant later.

Briefly he could hear the stranger cursing in a language he couldn't recognize. "Hisame!" he yelled.

The ermine responded to the call, zigzagging the floor with a wonderful fleetness of feet as it dodged the various bits of falling debris. Hibiki opened his mouth to speak, only to have a boxful of stained, oily cloth flop over his head. He ripped it off in an instant. "What's happening here?!" he yelled.

"We're taking off!" the stranger yelled back frantically. "Find someplace to secure yourself!"

"No way! It's still two hours early!"

"Well, I've got news for you, we're launching anyway! And don't talk; you'll bite your tongue!"

The ermine skittered agilely across the slanted floorboards, performing a jumping dive to land neatly on the stranger's shoulder. Hibiki shielded himself as a second crate bounded towards him, fending it aside, and amidst the chaos the third-class citizen spared an instant to peek out from a nearby porthole. The sight of the planet's surface receding rapidly from below him could only mean one thing.

Then the full enormity of the situation hit him.

He was a stowaway.

He would be killed outright if anyone caught him.

He was trapped aboard a flagship bound for the reaches of outer space, to challenge the worst enemy of his race to war.

"Oh no..." Hibiki's voice quivered in despair. "We really are flying..."

  
~*~

"Tekkaman Razor," the boy demanded sternly. "Report."

There was no response.

The boy frowned. Had there been any onlookers, they would have found the loose strands of hair that dangled over his features concealed his expression in a rather roguishly handsome way. The Avatar had been late for his report, and it had never happened before.

For him, unexpected surprises seldom came as good news. A brief check on his PET confirmed this. Tekkaman Razor's vital life signs were flatlined, his quantum signature erased from the anime dimension.

The boy stared at his PET for several seconds, masking his stunned shock behind a perfectly unreadable facade. It was theoretically impossible -- the Tekkaman's powers far exceeded those of any GateKeeper at that point in the plot timeline, and he had personally made sure of that.

Unless...

The PET device snapped shut with a flick of his wrist. "Congratulations, Celia," the boy murmured under his breath, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "You've made the hunt that much more interesting for me."

He was looking forward to the next challenge.

**End Prologue**


	2. Genesis

_"Teksetter!"_

"Gate open! Teksetter!"

So he relies on his Gate instead of a TekkaCrystal to Tekset himself, the boy mused as he continued to observe the computer screen, watching the replay of the video clip for the third time so far. It was an interesting amalgamation of both the GateKeepers and Tekkaman Blade series, one that eliminated a Tekkaman's dependence on his TekkaCrystal. Perhaps the interchange of quantum signatures between Author and Avatar possessed several unique properties that had yet to be discovered... or perhaps it was a mere coincidence, one of astronomical proportions at that. At any rate, he made a mental note to himself to take a closer look at the equations governing that particular section of the Fourth Wall. And if his suspicions held true, he had quite a number of creative ideas on how to exploit them.

Even more puzzling was how the Avatar had suddenly developed Gate powers, and without any Author intervention whatsoever. The boy frowned at the thought, quickly dismissing it as not possible. He had simply missed registering the data stream, and that was all.

Still, it was another thing worth looking into.

Both TekkaFighters continued their combat as he watched, the battleground set in 1970 Tokyo of the GateKeepers dimension. Two giant robots raged against each other in the background that was the city, one white and the other black, but he paid no attention to them, for they were only going to tell him what he already knew. His mind was, instead, focused on the smaller-scale, yet no less desperate skirmish waged between two human-sized warriors clad in Radam power suits. And until now the contest had been proceeding in pretty much the one-sided manner he had expected, with the crimson Tekkaman hewing away at his adversary, tearing apart his silver armor bit by bit with a serrated energy lance, and finally, having grown bored by the lack of challenge, prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

Then it happened.

_"Open the Gate! Teknoshift to... Dominion form!"_

This was an enigma all by itself. Tekkaman Rave's physical appearance had been, as far as Tekkamen went, odder than usual. And while it had been feeble cause for concern, the fact that Rave had Tekset himself to any secondary form other than Blastor was not. The rogue GateKeeper Tekkaman had, in one single stroke, completely defied the rules of the Tekkaman Blade dimension, and whilst Authors were empowered to do so by inserting the abominable creations known as Mary Sues into stories, Avatars were not. Again, not without Author intervention, anyway. Failing to register the data stream once was somewhat acceptable, but twice? Caught between two equally improbable options -- his baffling ineptitude as of late, or the Avatar exhibiting powers which was theoretically off-limits -- he wasn't sure what to decide.

Not to mention the term 'Teknoshift' was highly unfamiliar to him, if it even existed.

_"Kaiser Voltekker!"_

"Shin Voltekker!"

Ultimate Voltekker, he translated mentally to himself. A blinding silver aura erupted around Tekkaman Rave, clashing with Razor's Kaiser Voltekker, and the video clip file ended in a flash of white. It was all the data he had managed to save before Rave's Shin Voltekker had fried everything around the Tekkaman, including the recording camera he had implanted beforehand.

A pity. Learning more about the Shin Voltekker could prove useful later. While he was tempted to produce a set of generalized assumptions regarding the Shin Voltekker, garnered from how the Voltekker armaments of TekkaFighters Blade, Saber and Hiver operated, the events thus far told him enough for him to realize the very unpredictability of the Avatar's powers. Half-truths made the most dangerous lies; a set of incorrect theories could prove even bigger a mistake than no theories whatsoever when the next encounter with the Avatar took place.

All the same, the Incarnate of Nature had been successfully captured, and that was all that mattered. Tekkaman Razor was a pawn at best. A pawn that had served him well thus far, but nonetheless an expendable one. There were numerous others who were more than willing to take his place, and this time he would need to select one who was truly worthy of receiving the full powers of Project Insurgence when it was completed.

He checked his PET's status display. The Avatar had already warp jumped, his quantum signature disappearing from the GateKeepers timeline, only to reappear in Vandread the First Stage. He paused for a while, sorting out and rearranging his thoughts as he saved them into a text file, then clicked on the 'Play' button once more.

**Vandread: The Alternate Stage  
Part of the "Biggest Dreamer" storyline  
Chapter 1: Genesis**

Hibiki's first instinct had been to panic.

It was hard not to. What was happening now was quite impossible... at least theoretically. He had checked and double-checked his plans beforehand, outlining and brainstorming every stage of his scheme, planning ahead for every possible scenario and designed back-up, failsafe stratagems in advance. While there wasn't much that Hibiki was good at, he had always prided himself on his skills as a master strategist, and not without good reason.

As it was, the Ikazuchi was already heading into orbit. The exhibition match was but mere hours away, and the first preemptive strike against the women would commence a few short days later. At any rate, it was anyone's guess as to which side would find and execute him first if things kept up, something which he had definitely not included in his plans.

It wasn't until his plans ran out and he was forced to think of what to do next did he realize how truly scared he was. The deadly thrill of the hunt filled him, and he didn't particularly relish the odds. But he was still alive; they had still to discover him thus far, and he was in a chamber filled with Vanguards.

The Vanguards.

He'd find a way out of this mess yet.

"K'sou... this can't really be happening... I mean, it's a joke, right? Argh! I'm going to kill the bastard who launched us when I find him!"

"Hibiki..."

"Nani?"

"Shut up."

The stranger was leaning against the leg of a Vanguard, curled up into sitting fetal position to make himself as small as possible. What little light afforded by the small lamps set in regular intervals against the wall of the docking bay allowed Hibiki to inspect the stranger. A bit of him, anyway. The stranger turned out to be a boy about his own age, a year older than he was at most. His eyes was closed, and his expression was one of slight pensiveness, as if the whole encounter was a mere irritation instead of a life-threatening situation, and it was with no small amount of astonishment that Hibiki realized that the boy was clad in the garb of a Taraak third-class citizen as well, dogtag and all.

"Oi," Hibiki demanded warily. "Who are you?"

Even in the dim light, Hibiki could read enough of the digits sewn onto the boy's left sleeve to tell that he didn't recognize the other third-class citizen's sector codes. The Taraak mechanic frowned. The only noise that filled the docking bays for the next few moments were the deafening hum of the Ikazuchi's engines as the ship gathered enough power and velocity to break free of Taraak's gravitational pull, and if the stranger heard Hibiki's request, he made no acknowledgement of it.

"Hey," Hibiki repeated, the slight growl in his voice betraying his growing nervous irritation. "I asked who you were."

The stranger sighed wearily. He had been a man of many names. "Who am I, huh?" he echoed softly, a preoccupied expression on his face. "Would you believe me if I told you I was Hayashi Ichiro, third-class citizen?"

_-FLASHBACK-_

"Do you know what this is?"

"... No."

"It's a Personal Terminal, or PET for short. With it you'll be able to breach the Fourth Wall, and into the anime dimensions. Here, take it... you'll be able to do much more with it than I will."

"Why me?"

"This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? A chance to find where you really belong?"

-END FLASHBACK-

Hibiki frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Sou ka," Ichiro pondered the words for a few seconds. "And as for your second question... do you believe in Kami-sama?"

Hibiki's frown deepened. "I believe in myself."

"That's good to hear."

A slight ticklish feeling ran up the side of his leg. The white snow ermine was on his shoulder again before he knew it, staring at him with an inquisitive expression. It was quite cute in a way, Hibiki realized, and though the mechanic still had no knowledge of the species of the creature, he had learnt enough by now to tell that the creature was harmless, judging by how it had nestled on the stranger's shoulder.

"I didn't know us third-class citizens were allowed to keep pets," Hibiki remarked, holding back a ticklish giggle as the ermine ran through his left sleeve, exiting from the other and perched itself back on the stranger's shoulder in a quick flash. "Is he yours?"

"No."

"No need to be so reserved," Hibiki retorted. "We're all in the same boat anyway; I was just trying to make conversation."

The boy looked up, as if briefly surprised at Hibiki's words. "I suppose I was a bit rude," he said with a somewhat detached mood. "No, I don't own him. He's a friend."

"For one who's caught on board an Omega-class warship, you sure are relaxed, aren't you?" Hibiki said. Too relaxed, in fact. Almost like as if he had all this planned in advance. "What are you going to do anyway?"

The floor shook. Ichiro had to grab at the leg of a nearby Vanguard to steady himself as clicks and hisses echoed from beneath them, followed by a low, mechanical hum. "Hey!" Hibiki protested. "What's going on this time?"

"We're going up," Ichiro said. Hisame slinked quickly into his backpack, and the boy realized that must have been how the ermine had been inadvertently caught along with his warp jump. He filed the train of thought away for later; the entire hangar was moving, lifted by hydraulic engines below it, and his heart pounded in anticipation. "And one more thing, Hibiki..."

"What?"

"Never ask someone who knows everything what to do or what happens next," Ichiro replied pensively, "for the one thing he won't know is how to reply."

  
~*~

The cadet lounge aboard the old section of the Ikazuchi was currently in a hubbub-like state of social activity.

Several hours remained until the Ikazuchi would arrive at its specified target coordinates, and in the meantime the newest batch of military recruits mingled among themselves, making full use of the opportunity to exchange introductions and pieces of gossip. The lounge itself was bedecked as an exclusive dining hall, decorated with wall tapestries and plush carpets of no less than finest quality. Tables were placed through the lounge, supplied with exquisite chocolate, bowls of alcoholic beverages and various other snack tidbits. Waiters intermingled inconspicuously among the cadets, balancing trays in their hands, ready to refill empty glasses of wine at a moment's notice.

All in all, the scene resembled a social gathering more than it did a military function.

If any among the crowd felt at all agitated by the apparent lack of martial discipline, they kept it to themselves. And then, of course, there were those who were more than happy to enjoy the lack of stiff regulation while it lasted.

Bart Garsus, future heir to Garsus Food Corporation, was of the latter category.

Strictly speaking, he was more relieved at not having to cunningly scheme in order to shirk off the various duties and responsibilities that came with military camp, than at the actual lax of discipline. It was almost as much work as, well, work itself. Still, he reflected to himself, work was only work when one was forced to do it by someone or something else.

Which was why Bart was now looking forward to his next task with something akin to anticipation. While he had always felt his true calling in inheriting the family business, his father had been adamant about him spending at least a short stint in the Taraak Imperial Army -- to 'build character and learn the lessons of life,' or so the old man had claimed. The fact he had survived past one month in camp, let alone passed the final test with distinctions in every field, was truly one of his life's biggest mysteries, and he couldn't help but wonder if his father had used his political influence to this end.

He had thusly been offered a select spot as one of the Ikazuchi's new officers, one of the highest honors that a military graduate could receive, despite having learned absolutely zilch from boot camp.

He had rejected it.

His father balked.

And so, after much bawling, sobbing and protesting on Bart's part, father and son struck a grudging compromise with each other. Bart was now back on the Ikazuchi, but both as trainee Vanguard pilot and official representative for Garsus Food Corporation this time, and it was the second part of his duties that he was looking forward to now.

D-29 formula special nutrition pills, check.

Breath freshener, check.

Bart leaned towards a nearby punch bowl, inspecting his reflection. Immaculate hairstyle, check.

Winning smile, check.

Perfect. Giving his uniform one last pat to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle, Bart strode confidently towards his selected quarry -- a group of four cadets, currently exchanging light banter over glasses of vintage wine, provided courtesy of the Taraak Imperial Army. Or, rather, three of them were currently exchanging light banter over glasses of vintage wine, discussing among themselves about the fourth, whilst the said fourth remained calmly silent as he sipped at his drink.

"I assume that you'll be assigned to headquarters, right Duero?"

"With a record like yours, you can do whatever you want..."

"I hear that he submitted his assignment request form completely blank! Didn't you, Duero?"

"... He did _what_?"

Their chitchat was interrupted as Bart approached. The blonde-haired cadet cleared his throat, raising his carton of specially produced food pills as he did so. "Hi there, is everyone having a good time?" he greeted. "This is a sample of our company's new product. It's our own unique formula special nutrition tablet!" He leaned closer, whispering quietly. "I'd probably sound like a huckster, but the truth is, the quality of the ingredients is far superior to anything else that is available on the market right now."

While it didn't show, _that_ caught Duero's attention.

Bart thrust the open carton forward, which contained what mildly resembled multi-colored candy corn. "But seeing as how our product is still in promotional stage, you can have a free taste if you want! So how about it, gentlemen?"

The cadets appeared somewhat nervously taken aback by Bart's approach. "Er... thanks, but no thanks... I'll pass."

"Ah, sorry, but I'm pretty full right now..."

"Oh, really?" Bart shrugged patronizingly, closing the carton. "That's quite a shame. Who knows, chances are you'll never get a second chance to eat this good again." A minor setback. Still, there were many other people in the lounge for him to approach, and if there was one thing he had learned through his years, it was persistence. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a second group of cadets, and made his way towards them. "Hey there. You two look like gentlemen of fine distinction. How would you like to try out our new, special..."

The former group of cadets watched his leave. "Who was that guy?" one of them asked, frowning as he shook his glass.

"His name is Bart, I think. Bart Garsus. His father's the owner of Garsus Foods, and let's just say that it's his family that's keeping all of us fed."

Bart could've sworn he heard someone retch slightly behind him in response to those words.

The lights dimmed suddenly. Bart looked up, surprised by the sudden occurrence, failing to notice his two potential samplers slipping away from him under the cover of the darkness until it was too late. A voice spoke out from hidden speakerphones in the lounge. "Gentlemen, please direct your attention towards the main screen in front of you."

The blonde Garsus heir sighed, putting away his carton. But then again, perhaps he could spare aside some time for the much-hyped about 'secret weapon' of the Taraak Imperial Army and just get it all over with -- talk had been of nothing but these Vanguards lately, and truth be told, he was beginning to get tired of it all.

"TSUKUMO VERSION VAN-TYPE FIGHTER"

The words appeared in bold at the top of the screen as the image of a white Vanguard unit appeared, embracing a crouching position and holding a sized-up sword with its tip pointing forward.

"Pierce. Stab. And slash. With all these purpose accessories, the Tsukumo is a weapon in and of itself," the unseen announcer began his narration. The Vanguard stood erect, stepping backwards into the background where it was joined by a handful more of its twins, flanking it on both sides as each unit unsheathed a different close-combat weapon, including katanas, nodachis, spears, axes and daggers, striking varying combat poses with their armaments.

"It is the frontline weapon of our military! Be it the sea, the air, the mountains, the plains! There is no terrain our great weapon cannot traverse!" The scene faded, replaced by cutscenes of a squadron of Vanguards, armed with torpedo launchers waging an underwater battle against a fleet of submarine-like ships, their ion thrusters replaced with underwater turbines, followed by another squadron jetting in deep space, the leading Vanguard carrying a flag with the insignia of the Taraak Empire emblazoned upon it.

"The ultimate weapon created by the Empire -- in other words, 99-type Bangata Bokugeki-ki! A new age for Taraak will be dawning before our very eyes!" A lone Vanguard appeared on the screen, grasping at a katana and nodachi in both it hands, replacing its weapons into the sheaths mounted on its back. The dark background faded away, replaced by a fleet of Vanguards, each embracing a victorious pose in combat over the enemy.

A wave of frenzied applause roared from the cadets as the screen slowly faded away to black, followed by exclamations of approval from some. Bart frowned, running an index finger idly at across cheek, ignoring his wildly cheering companions that surrounded him on all sides. "That's so... tacky..."

"How about a round of applause for our fleet of Tsukumo Version Van-Type Fighters!"

Lights flooded across the lounge again as the muffled sound of machinery at work somewhere below the hall reached Bart's ears. The massive screen before them slid aside, revealing behind it the Vanguard hangar that had been elevated by hydraulic mechanisms. The Vanguards, operated by some autoprogram, released themselves from their respective docking bays, turning a quarter-circle forward in perfect unison to face the military cadets. The fresh cadets prepared to cheer once more, until they noticed two figures, shrunk by the distance and dressed in the attire of third-class citizens, dangling precariously from the torso of a Vanguard.

Ichiro looked up, blinking at the light as his eyes adjusted. "Well, this is where the fun starts."

"Don't tell me," Hibiki gulped nervously, not daring to turn around and look. "We're being exhibited in front of the cadet lounge, aren't we?"

Complete silence reigned for a full second. Then...

"Aren't those third-class citizens?"

"What're they doing here?! Guards!! Get them!"

A few short minutes of pandemonium ensued. Armed security guards ran up to seize the two third-class citizens. Hibiki ran. The guards gave chase. Hibiki scrambled up a nearby platinum bust of Grand Pa. The guards climbed up after him. Hibiki lashed out, kicking two guards off the pedestal. Another guard rushed up to Ichiro, doubling the boy over with a vicious punch to his gut.

"Ooof..."

"Leave me alone! Get off me!" Hibiki yelled.

"Yeah!" Bart cheered. "Go for it, shorty!"

"It sure was thoughtful of them to provide entertainment."

"Hmph," Duero snorted. "Pointless."

"Who the hell was it who just called me shorty?! Damn it! Let go of me, you bastards!"

"Hisame!" Ichiro yelled. "Come back here!"

A shriek of pain rang out from one of the guards gripping at Ichiro's shoulder. The said guard tumbled backwards, swinging his arm frantically as he tried to shake off the white, rodent-like creature which had fastened its jaw securely around his thumb. Ichiro struggled against his remaining captors, but a sweeping kick that hit him behind the knee quickly restrained him. With a final, mighty swing, the guard flung Hisame off his now bleeding thumb, almost bitten off by the creature's sharp teeth, then, yelling in blind fury, unslung a sub-machine gun as he began firing at the ermine that was now running across the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?! You'll kill him, dammit!" Ichiro shouted.

"Shut up, you third-class reject! It won't be as bad as what I'm gonna do to you!"

_That does it, buddy._

Ichiro grabbed hold of a wine bottle from a nearby table, lobbing it like a Molotov cocktail towards the guard in an attempt to throw off his aim. The bottle shattered against his skull, knocking him senseless. Interestingly enough, this caused the unforeseen side-effect of droplets of the alcoholic, flammable beverage spattering over the muzzle of the guard's firearm. The liquid was instantly ignited by the sparks from the weapon, bursting into flames that spread quickly through the lounge. Carpets, tapestries and tablecloths burned merrily, fueling the conflagration, and Hibiki, quickly catching the general gist of it, gleefully sprayed the contents of two champagne bottles over the blaze.

Utter chaos descended upon the scene.

Hisame swiftly vanished amidst the crowd of cadets. In the end, the two rowdy third-class citizens were eventually silenced by guards bonking them on the heads with high-voltage electric prods. All in all, owing to Hibiki's vigorous efforts and one lively snow ermine, it had took an entire team of security guards to subdue the two unarmed intruders, with half the cadet lounge left in charred ruins at that.

  
~*~

"I-Type 06, watch them, understood?" the guard snarled angrily.

The I-Type android floated into place in front of the cell, beeping in response. "Roger."

Glimmering bars snapped into place horizontally as both Avatar and anime character were dumped unceremoniously into the jail brig, Ichiro coming to crash face-first against a stack of cardboard boxes. Hibiki sprang up instantly, clutching at his shoulder where the guards had twisted it. "Bastards!" he shouted. "Don't just dump us in some storage room! You could at least put us in a real prison!"

"Oh, you mean the boxes," one of the guards uttered a harsh laugh. "This cell may be used for storage, but it's a real brig. So just simmer down, your Highness."

"They've decided to give you a public execution, and it won't be too quick and painless," the second guard said maliciously. "The generals must be in a good mood today for going so lenient on you two."

Ichiro placed a hand restrainingly on Hibiki's shoulder as the latter prepared to let fly at their captors. "Not... worth it... Hibiki..." Ichiro coughed.

Hibiki's fists clenched themselves tightly enough for his fingernails to pierce through his skin. The two guards gave one final, derisive laugh as they turned to leave. "No use putting on hot airs, you third-class trash, you're going to die in a few hours anyway."

With a yell Hibiki leapt towards the bars, a heavy monkey wrench in his hand as he aimed a blow through the bars at one of the guards. His adversary, however, was quicker than he was. He had barely gotten onto his feet before an electric prod hit him squarely on the shoulder, stunning him with a jolt of juice. Two claw-like appendages extended from the end of the prod, locking themselves around his left arm, and with a tug the guard dragged Hibiki into the energy bars, slamming a kick into his stomach for good measure as he was released from the grip of the electric prod. Hibiki was knocked back, his head colliding against the floor with a dull thud.

"Heh," The taller guard withdrew his prod, casting one final, scathing look on the downed third-class citizen. "Looks like he won't be acting all hot-headed for quite a while. Take a lesson from your friend there and just keep your mouth shut next time."

"_If_ there's a next time," his companion chuckled mockingly.

Ichiro sighed wearily, watching as the guards left. He and Hibiki would break free from the prison cell in due time, but Hisame was missing, his PET and backpack confiscated, and he felt frighteningly vulnerable without them. He could never face Yukino again if anything happened to the ermine, his precious collection of Gym Badges was stuffed in his backpack, and failing to recover his PET would trap him in this dimension for the rest of his life -- a literal death sentence. "Oi, Hibiki," he said, nicking the mechanic with the toe of his boot. "You okay?"

"Ugh... I'm fine..." Hibiki replied quietly, grimaced as he pushed himself upwards into a sitting position next to Ichiro. He stared at his companion, and chuckled. "Looks like they beat you up pretty bad too, huh?"

"You don't look so good yourself," Ichiro retorted. A busted lip, caked blood and a wonderfully colorful array of bruises decorated Hibiki's face, and Ichiro cringed inwardly at the knowledge that he probably looked no better than Hibiki did. "Wish I had a mirror somewhere... how's my left eye?"

"Purple."

The Avatar winced. It was not how he wanted to look when the pretty girls showed up. "Aw, heck..."

Hibiki slumped against the wall, using the cardboard boxes as makeshift cushions. "K'sou... why do things always get messed up in my life?" he groaned. "Don't tell me this is the real meaning of life after all! I-- hey..."

The white I-Type 06 robot that had been left behind to guard them stood unmovingly at its post, and the only visible indication that it was even online was how it floated several inches off the floor, powered by anti-gravity generators. A good portion of the front of the oval-shaped robot was cut away, making place for a flat display screen, with a small touch-panel input console mounted at an obtuse angle to its monitor. Ichiro sweatdropped as he noticed Hibiki's newfound interest in the Navibot. "Um, Hibiki... I think we should just try to get some rest for now..."

Hibiki snorted. "We're going to be executed, and you want to rest? Gimme a break! Uh, hey, partner," he started, turning towards the Navibot. "Why don't you be a pal and let us out of here? We were both born in a factory, right? So that means we're kind of like brothers, huh?"

"Ah, screw it," Ichiro closed his eyes, returning to his nap. "Suit yourself."

The I-Type beeped. "Request does not compute. *brpzzh* Identity scan of subject commencing... complete. Subject is classified as a human organic life structure. We are composed of completely different materials, logical input 'brothers' rejected."

"I've got this big generator back home!" Hibiki continued frantically. "I could install it in you, and you could let me out of here!"

DENIED. The Navibot buzzed as words in bold red lettering flashed across its display screen. "The subject is making an unauthorized request. Instigation of attempted escape and bribery are crimes. Therefore..."

Hibiki raised an eyebrow. "... Therefore?"

*ZAP* *CRACKLE*

"Yaaaargh!"

*THUD*

Ichiro sighed, his gaze straying from the Navibot to the inert, nicely baked and electrocuted form of the third-class citizen lying dazed on the floor. "Yare yare desu ne..."

  
~*~

"What," the Taraak Prime Minister spoke into the intercom, his voice dangerously quiet, "was the ruckus about?"

"We have two unidentified third-class citizen intruders at the Vanguard docking bays, sir! We've detained the intruders, and security teams 44 and 46 are scouting the ship for any more of their accomplices!"

"What are you talking about?!" the Prime Minister roared. "I thought the Ikazuchi had already been triple-checked prior to takeoff!! How did the intruders get onto the ship, and when?"

"Fleet is now approaching, proceeding into half-moon formation," one of the bridge crew reported from his console. "The escort ship Maboroshi is hailing us with questions concerning the exhibition match, sir! Should I establish a communications channel?"

The Prime Minister paused, taking a deep breath as if to contain his apoplectic fury. "Tell them that the exhibition match is cancelled!" he barked. "Order all ships to move into formation! And as for you..." he growled into the intercom. "I want all the intruders dead! Execute them all for the crime of daring to challenge our Grand Pa's pride! No, wait, on second thought, interrogate them first. I want to know how they sneaked aboard the ship."

"Yes sir! Commencing transmissions n--"

The bridge crew's words were interrupted abruptly as a violent shudder ran across the Ikazuchi, toppling over the stack of documents arranged neatly on the Prime Minister's desk. He looked up, his purple face appearing almost ready to burst with rage as klaxons alarms began to blare, filling the ship with their screeching noise. "What's going on?!" he roared. "I already gave the order to stop the exhibition match!!"

"This isn't part of the exhibition match, sir!" a bridge officer yelled back in return. "It's the women; they're launching a surprise attack at us!!"

  
~*~

Mind and body had a brief debate with each other. Body was tired and hurt. Mind told body that bigger hurt was coming its way if it didn't move. Mind won. And so Ichiro yawned, stretching himself as he sat up. Half an hour's nap was hardly enough, but it was all he could get, and as of such it would have to do. "C'mon, Hibiki. Time to get going."

Hibiki raised an eyebrow. "Where to, smartass? We're in a prison cell, if you haven't noticed."

Ichiro stuffed the hems of his tunic into his ears in response.

As if on cue, an ear-jarring blast of noise shot through the cell as a massive explosion sent violent quakes through the entire sector of the ship, drowning out Hibiki's yelp of shocked surprise. The I-Type 06 Navibot was thrown off its balance, falling straight into the path of the energy grids that secured the prison cell's contents. Several loud crackles ensued, and when the shaking eased sufficiently for both third-class citizens to scramble back onto their feet, the Navibot was lying on its side, its systems short-circuited by contact with the energy grid.

A grin spread across Hibiki's face at the sight of the out-of-commission I-Type, his hand closing around the handle of a screwdriver as he reached carefully for the Navibot through the power grids. "Just sit tight," he said, working feverishly as he pried a section of the wall near the grids loose, revealing a jumble of color-coded wires, all of which meant nothing to Ichiro. "I'll have us out of here in no time!"

  
~*~

"The escort ship Kojiri has been destroyed!"

"The Maboroshi's down too!"

The battle continued to rage outside the Ikazuchi as both its escort vessels quickly engaged emergency protocols, plummeting back into Taraak atmosphere, leaving the Ikazuchi alone to face the onslaught of the ambush. The small, dynamic high-speed fighter crafts of the females quickly proved more than a match for the unwieldy artillery cannons mounted on the Taraak flagships, and the confusion had further escalated when the Ikazuchi's escort ships, caught in the crossfire of their own weapons, began shooting among themselves, succeeding in blasting each other's engines out of commission in the process. In a matter of minutes the women had managed to obliterate whatever clumsy counter-attack the Ikazuchi had been able to mount, and the battle was going to be a short one if the situation persisted.

In other words, things weren't going too well for the Taraak expeditionary space force.

"Port-side wing section's been hit! Gyroscopic control down to 44 percent!"

"Divert all power to the remaining port engines! Keep the Ikazuchi level!"

The Vice Prime Minister sighed. "Things are getting critical, Minister. Perhaps we should order a retreat; the women'll never dare to follow us back to the T2 minefields."

"And admit defeat?" the Prime Minister asked harshly. "Do you want to go back in shame before we've even set our sight on the women's planet?"

His aide was somewhat taken aback. "That... that wasn't what I meant, sir..."

"Of course not," the Prime Minister retorted. "I want the Vanguards dispatched! Now!"

The Vice Prime Minister caught a sharp intake of breath at his commander's words. "But sir... the cadets... they're only trainees, all of them!"

"True," the supreme commander of the Taraak armed forces seethed coldly. "But there's one thing you'll need to learn to take my seat. Do everything in your power if you don't want any regrets! There's no way we can go back to face Grand Pa if we lose without even using the newest weapon! Do you understand?"

Some distance away, a second, smaller command ship observed the fight. "Well, Okashira, it looks like we've netted a large one."

The person being addressed was an elderly woman, dressed in long, flowing robes and a hood that concealed much of her form. She nodded slightly in reply, continuing to watch as the battle unfolded. "Today must be our lucky day, then."

  
~*~

Bart was confused, irate and upset. For the most part, however, he was piss-scared.

Situations like these were exactly why he had decided to leave the military. But instead, Dad decided that Bart needed go out and experience life for himself for once. Of course, Bart reflected onto himself, the dim-witted elder Garsus had foolishly failed to take into account the factor that his son might be dead before Bart got around to accomplishing his more noble goals in the Taraak Imperial Army. A bit far-fetched under normal circumstances, perhaps, and knowing his father, being sent into the thick of war against the demonic women probably counted as one.

The blonde cadet had, of course, anticipated such scenarios in advance, and planned ahead for them. What he didn't expect, however, was to be ambushed by the women barely hours before they left the Taraak orbit. And so he had made a few improvisations to his plans; hiding under a cloth-draped table in the cadet hall to prevent himself from being seen would suffice for the time being. After all, the Garsus heir theorized, at times like these, who the heck was the fool who would spare the time to check beneath tables?

"ATTENTION, CADETS! IT IS NOW TIME FOR YOU TO RECLAIM YOUR HERITAGE AND REPAY OUR ANCESTORS! TAKE YOUR POSITIONS AND DESTROY OUR ENEMIES!"

Bart grimaced as, across the Ikazuchi, the order to deploy the Vanguards and move out was given. The poor saps, going out to die for a cause they didn't even understand. Not that he did himself, which was why he was doubly glad he was under the table at that point.

Five seconds later, Bart found himself wondering what the complete silence outside was about -- there weren't enough tables in the lounge for all the cadets to hide under, last he checked. Had he screwed enough courage to peek out from below the tablecloth, the blonde trainee would probably have wet his pants. Twisted into shadows of their former selves, the mannequin-like humanoids that had been Taraak cadets less than a minute ago now straightened themselves as their pounding headaches vanished, replaced by an empty nothingness save a base instinct programmed directly into their psyches. Quickly the Invaders assembled, gathering in the middle of the hall in a sea of black and gray.

"Begin the operation."

  
**End Chapter 1**

**_Author's Notes_**  
Well, so I've finally acknowledged my inability to fix the chapter and decided to post it anyway. Which is something I might regret later, but what the heck. Writer's block sux0rs.

I've come to realize that I'm simply not good enough to hold the reader's attention with long chapters, so I've decided to break what was originally the first chapter into two parts. For those of you who watch AXN, yes, the name Tekkaman Rave was inspired by the anime. I originally had another name for that guy, only to realize that it'd clash with another anime character that I'm planning to cross this story at another point. Besides, Rave sounded cool. Don't sue me... *sweatdrops*

A big thanks to all my pre-readers *glares at Rift :P*, though sadly my own inadequacies tend to get into the way of your advice. @_@ Still, this chapter won't be the final draft yet; I'll edit it when... or if.... that blasted writer's block decides to take a vacation (how long has it been now, three weeks? Argh!). And with a little luck, you, my reader, won't find the Invader references too corny in there. :D 


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